Too Much In Control
by JonesIantoJones
Summary: Owen had probably loved Tosh for as long as he’d known her, but he knew he could never tell her even though she loved him as well. Please read and review x


**AN: This story was inspired by a song, but it's not really a songfic as such. "I Wont Send Roses" is one of the most beautiful songs that John Barrowman sings, and if you haven't heard it please look it up on YouTube before you read this. This is intended to be a one-shot, but I might be persuaded to carry it on, dependant on reviews. Let me know what you think x**

Owen had probably loved Tosh for as long as he'd known her, but he knew he could never tell her even though she loved him as well. Tosh wanted him to be her knight in shining armour. She had built up this iconic image of him and put him on a pedestal so high and unreachable that he knew he would never live up to her expectations. He knew he would only ever be a disappointment to her, and he would do anything he could to avoid hurting her. He just wasn't the romantic type, he wasn't good with words, and he wouldn't remember the important things that she would expect him to remember like dates and which outfit she wore. He knew that he would only ever mess up any relationship they managed to build, and that he would end up breaking her heart, so decided it was best left unexplored.

He had too much respect for her to add her to the endless notches on his bedpost, as much as he wanted to. He'd slept with Gwen, partaken in a brief affair with her, but it was all meaningless, and merely a failed attempt to get over the beautiful technical expert he'd grown so undeniably fond of that it hurt. He had slipped once, let his guard drop, and kissed her. It had been New Year, and he had found himself stumbling out of Torchwood after a few too many celebratory drinks. Tosh had drunk a few glasses of wine and was much more relaxed than usual as they'd wandered onto the Plass, and it was then that he'd spotted the mistletoe in her hand. It was a split second decision that led him to taking her hand, raising it above her head and kissing her softly but passionately beneath the festive plant. When the kiss had ended he'd played on his mild inebriation and staggered off a little too dramatically, hoping she'd put the kiss down to too many beers and never mention it again. When the team was sat around the campfire in the Beacons and it had been mentioned, Owen had panicked and spat out a reply that made him want to kick himself for hurting her. It was soon after that he'd begun his affair with Gwen, knowing she would never take it too seriously as to ever leave Rhys for him, but hoping that he would become attached enough to stop thinking about Tosh. It hadn't worked. The affair had fizzled out and Owen was back at square one, still lusting after his co-worker, but still to scared to do anything about it.

A bouquet of flowers had appeared on her desk once, and according to the card they were from him. He knew he hadn't sent them, he knew it wasn't his style, but when he saw the look of hope on her face at the prospect, he wished he had. She looked as if a man had never sent her flowers before, and Owen found that hard to understand. The look on her face, the happiness that bubbled out of her suited her, and he wished he were the one responsible for it. They never found out where the flowers had come from, or why the card had been signed with his name. None of the team new of his love for Tosh, so it wasn't one of them attempting a subtle push in the right direction. Maybe that's what he needed.

So instead of confessing his love, Owen spent his time and his energies building up this façade of indifference to Tosh, bordering on dislike. It was an extreme length to go to, but he needed her to stop loving him, he needed her to move on whilst she still could, and that would at least give him a fighting chance of doing the same. He snapped at her, sometimes he simply ignored her. He was rude to her, he was vulgar in her company, and he was as inappropriate as he could get away with around the rest of the team. It became a way of life, it became who he was, it became normal, and that was when Owen began to hate himself. Began to hate who and what he had become. It was then that he decided that something had to change.

TW

The clunk of a coffee mug being placed on his desk snapped Owen out of his reverie and he sat up straight startled at the interruption to his thoughts.

"Alright?" Ianto asked with a small smirk as Owen almost fell off his chair.

"Hmm… me… yeah… what?" Owen stuttered as he tried to remember what it was he was meant to be doing.

"Are you okay Owen? You seem… weird." Ianto commented.

"I'm fine. Just need a coffee. Any chance… oh." Owen began before spotting the steaming mug on his desk. "Good… thanks Ianto." He added picking the mug up and bringing to his lips, hoping to hide behind it.

"Weird." Ianto muttered as he wandered off, taking Jack his coffee and leaving Owen alone in the main Hub area with Tosh, Gwen out to lunch with Rhys.

"Are you alright Owen? You seem a bit on edge." Tosh asked looking over at him with a concerned expression on her face.

Owen swallowed and took a deep steadying breath. "Do you fancy getting a drink later? You know like in a bar? With me?" He groaned inwardly at how much like a teenager he sounded, and hoped Tosh found it endearing.

She smiled. "Sure. I'd like that." She replied before turning back to her monitor and going back to work.

"Cool." Owen said simply before picking up his coffee and going down to his autopsy bay, the only way to ensure nobody spotted the enormous grin that had taken over his face.


End file.
